


Once upon a time

by Isidar_Mithrim



Series: Marauders Era & Jily [16]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Character Death, Drabble, First War with Voldemort, Flash Fic, Gen, Marauders, Missing Scene, One Shot, Second War with Voldemort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-17 07:23:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20617193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isidar_Mithrim/pseuds/Isidar_Mithrim
Summary: “Once upon a time... It’s a discounted – or should we say classic? – begin for a fairy tale that even more obviously ends with the merry end ‘… and they lived happily ever after.’But for what ‘once upon a time’ could be more suited than for telling a tale about things that were, things that had been, things that are no more?To tell a story – no, not a fairy tale – that could never end with ‘…and they lived happily ever after’?”





	Once upon a time

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Epitaffio ai Malandrini](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/519191) by Isidar Mithrim. 

> This is the second fanfic I’ve ever written, almost eleven years ago… It’s far from perfect and I’m sure I’ll never write it like it now, but I can’t help still being quite fond of it.  
I hope it’s still worth your time.
> 
> I’m always open to opinions, suggestions, correction on the translation, chatting – here or on [tumblr](https://isidar-mithrim.tumblr.com) – so feel free to drop by ^^

**Once upon a time**

Once upon a time there were four friends, four great friends – they went by the name _Marauders_.

_Once upon a time..._

It’s a discounted – or should we say classic? – begin for a fairy tale that even more obviously ends with the merry end “… and they lived happily ever after.”

But for what “once upon a time” could be more suited than for telling a tale about things that were, things that had been, things that are no more?

To tell a story – no, not a fairy tale – that could never end with “…and they lived happily ever after”?

The Marauders didn’t know it yet, but they were already dead.

They were dead, because their death warrant had been signed by Lord Voldemort and, until then, Voldemort’s signature read _Avada Kedavra_.

The Dark Lord wasn’t a foolish.

Why choosing a tortuous path when there was a straighter one within easier reach?

That’s why he began killing those unsuspecting young men starting from the weakest, ensnaring Wormtail with promises of safety and threats of death.

He was the first to die.

He died when Voldemort mold his fearful soul, when in his love became terror and his hope became surrender – he died when he realised that he had to let others die in order _not _to die.

And that’s how the long and strenuous agony of the Marauders began.

Only one year had gone when Prongs passed away, torturing himself for not being able to save his wife and son.

He passed away when he understood that Moony was innocent, but he had let himself doubt it.

He passed away leaving Padfoot, blaming himself for his dullness, for not noticing Wormtail’s anguish, for not spotting any difference in him, for doing nothing to protect him – to _save _him.

For not being able to tell him he had already been forgiven.

Ultimately, he passed away because facing Voldemort without a wand means signing your own death.

That night, Padfoot was gone too.

He was gone, because without Prongs and his family he had no reason left to live.

He was gone, because he wasn’t sure he had the strength to look Moony in the eyes: he’d see their usual innocence, and he’d end up wondering how he could have missed it.

He was gone, because Prongs believed not trusting his friends was the highest dishonor, and Padfoot – cynical – had forced him to dishonor himself.

He was gone, because he was the one who’d suggested that damned switch, marking their fatal fate.

He was gone, because he knew that he was never going to forgive Wormtail, but he also knew that Prongs would have.

Moony, in two nights, perished twice.

The first was for them, for Prongs, Lily and Harry. He perished because his whole world fell apart without a warning, since he’d been left oblivious.

The second time was for Wormtail ashes and finger, it was for Padfoot’s public condemnation as mass murder – for his silent conviction as _traitor_.

He perished because Padfoot had killed them all – Prongs, Wormtail, Moony and even himself.

Yet, the Dark Lord considered himself a merciful man, and from time to time he could grant a second chance.

He didn’t grant it to Prongs, because his kid had already cheated Death, but he granted it to Wormtail, because he could take advantages of him. Voldemort resumed to corrode his soul, making him grateful for having been freed by his personal prison – the body of a rat.

At the end, though, the Dark Lord kept his promise. Wormtail died when his coward soul recalled his Gryffindor past, and for a brief second he remembered how warm it felt to be loved, before his corpse went cold.

Even Padfoot got an unplanned second chance. He came back to life when he hugged them again, when he pulled in his arms his old friend with tired but still innocent eyes, when he saw a glimpse of Harry, blood of his brother’s blood.

But Voldemort signature had never been challenged but by a fifteen months old baby, and that meant Padfoot was never truly free – at the end, his seclusion became his condemn.

By the wand of his most faithful servant, Voldemort kept his word.

May be Moony wasn’t that interesting to end his life for good on the first occasion, because after twelve years of agony he came back as well. He came back twice, as many times as he’d perished.

The first, when he saw Lily and James condensed in that sweet, brave thirteen years old, and he felt a sudden surge of love towards him.

The second, when he found out that Padfoot had killed nobody – nor Prongs, nor Lily, nor Wormtail, nor himself.

And finally, Moony lived. He lived, because he couldn’t believe he’d got another chance, because Death didn’t relinquish and tried to strike him again, taking Padfoot away, but this time he had the strength to withstand, because with live had come love/. Moony loved as he’d never done before, he loved because of her, thanks/ to her, and with love had come life – his innocente baby was perfect, not cursed, beloved.

Eventually, when it was time to settle the score, when his sacrifice was going to be worthy, when he was the last Marauders standing on this Earth, then Moony was ready. He welcomed Death with open arms, because now he was dying for Harry, Dora and Teddy – not because of sorrow.

When the Marauders met, they couldn’t have imagined what glorious and ruthless fate awaited them.


End file.
